


allow me to scream a little

by ButtTouchBrigade



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Veterinarian AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtTouchBrigade/pseuds/ButtTouchBrigade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For the love of all that is holy, when your pet is suffering from an obvious allergic reaction, you do not wait until the swelling’s gotten to the point where it could kill-“ Anders stopped short the moment he actually managed to look at the person he was yelling at.</p><p>‘Oh no, he’s good looking.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	allow me to scream a little

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaa  
> i had this sitting in my computer for so long im sorry im just not confident enough to post shit  
> i delete things all the time lmao as you've probably noticed if you follow me  
> i promise i wont delete this one though  
> if it even posts because AO3 is being a lil annoying here and not registering the works im posting :/

He glanced at the clock above his computer, his vision switching between blurred and focused. Was it 1A.M? 2A.M? By this point, Anders was having a hard time telling the difference. 

 

He sighed, removing his glasses and carefully cleaned them with the edge of his shirt. It had been that sort of day: patient after patient barging in with their sick pets because they’d bought them too hastily and hadn’t considered the true responsibility of owning one. It was always like that, after Christmas, after Easter, and Anders would always have the worst of it.  

 

Blindly reaching behind him for his warm cup of coffee, Anders glanced at the open door of his cabinet in the hopes that Merrill was packing up her things. If she was, it meant that the other vet, Tyria, was coming in, and he could go home. 

 

Instead, his assistant’s head popped into the room, and with a smile as excited and joyful as always, she asked if he wanted more coffee. 

 

“I already have some here,” he managed to croak, glancing back at the cup that his hand still hadn’t managed to get a hold of. Merrill’s face fell slightly as she studied him, her brow creasing with worry. Anders could have confused her for one of the animals staying under their hospitality. Especially with those pointy ears.

 

“Creators, Anders, you have to stop working so late. You know I can take care of things. The night shift _is_ mine after all. And if anything came up, I’m sure Tyria wouldn’t mind coming down here.”

 

He groaned, pressing his palms flat against his face. “Mahariel can’t be disturbed – you know how she is when you interrupt her free days. Especially when Zevran’s around. Plus, I can’t afford to leave this clinic, there could always be some poor creature whose owner does not know how to take care of them coming in while both Mahariel and I are out.”

 

“It sounds as if you don’t trust me.” Merrill’s look of hurt was invalidated by the amusement in her voice. It was well known in their cabinet that Merrill, albeit being talented, was clumsy and often ended up taking pets from other people overnight just so she could spend time with them. It was cute, but it was also a waste of their resources. 

 

As if on cue, the phone at the reception desk rang the moment she returned to her post. Merrill stared at him incredulously, his only reply being a quirked eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’. Which is exactly what he meant. He turned over to finally take a large gulp of his coffee as he listened to Merrill answer the phone. 

 

“Darktown veterinary clinic?” she started in the same chipper tone that she used during the day. Anders wanted whatever she was having – considering he could barely get a few words past his mouth when he was tired. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept for more than 3 hours in the past couple of days.

 

“Oh dear,” Merrill said as she reached for a pen to scribble some notes down. “Alright, have you tried applying vinegar to the sting? Oh it’s gotten that bad already!” She scribbled down some more notes before turning her attention to Anders. “Bring him here immediately – you know where we are located, yes? Alright. We will see you soon.”

 

Anders repressed yet another groan as Merrill placed the phone down and rushed over to him. “You might want to prepare some antihistamine before the dog gets here.”

 

“What’s happened now?” he asked, slightly exasperated. 

 

“Well, it’s a mabari,” Merrill started, glancing down at the piece of paper she was holding before moving over to the cupboards on the far side of the room and pulling out a syringe. “It had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, apparently.”

 

“Bloody,” Anders started, his hands unconsciously raising to press against his face, but did not get to finish swearing at the dog owner before the front door bell rang and Merrill ran out to collect the dog with a surprised gasp. “Already?” he groaned into his hands. “It’s barely been,” he glanced at the clock between parted fingers, “5 minutes!”

 

Anders waited anxiously as Merrill greeted the patient. “Oh dear he does not look good,” Merrill claimed the moment she dragged the humongous dog in. Anders gawked at the poor creature’s face. 

 

“Maker’s balls,” he whispered, rushing over to the wounded animal. “The swelling is so bad the dog can’t even open his eyes.” He held the dog still as Merrill administered the antihistamine. For a dog in such a great amount of pain, Anders was surprised by how calm it was. Surprised, but also appreciative. Trying to hold down a mabari was a nightmare that most vets tried to avoid as much as possible.

 

Once the antihistamine was applied, Merrill returned to the reception to deal with the pet owner. Anders examined the dog’s face, dabbing the dog’s lips with the vinegar wipe. Grumbling to himself about irresponsibility, he turned and reached for the cool cloth that Merrill had previously set up. All that was left to do was wait and watch to see if the swelling went down.

 

During the time that he spent studying the dog’s slow recovery, Anders prepared an incredibly long speech about the caretaking of animals. More specifically, that if a dog showed severe allergic symptoms, that it was irresponsible of the owner to wait until the swelling had completely overtaken its face before bringing it in to the emergencies.

 

After an hour and a half of diligently taking care of the dog, finding the location of the sting and placing vinegar wipes on it, much to the dog’s displeasure,Anders had completely memorised the heated speech he had for its owner. He stood up to exit his cabinet, leaving the sleeping dog on the examination table. 

 

He opened the door to the room, fuming, and stepped out, his words leaving his mouth before he got a good look at the owner. “For the love of all that is holy, when your pet is suffering from an obvious allergic reaction, you do not wait until the swelling’s gotten to the point where it could kill-“ He stopped short the moment he actually managed to look at the person he was yelling at. 

 

_Oh no, he’s good looking._

  
Good looking didn’t even begin covering it. The man was a little bit taller than he was – a surprise for Anders, who was used to towering above everyone, colleagues and patients included. Two blue eyes locked onto his and the man’s face broke out into a grin – a shit eating grin, no less, one that communicated both sheepishness and a total lack of shame at the same time. 

 

Anders didn’t know whether to punch the man or ask him out. The torrent of words that Anders was about to unleash on him suddenly found itself wedged in his throat, and he coughed, both to avoid looking at their customer and to hide his face. 

 

He knew he’d turned beet red by now. 

 

“Y-You have to to take them to the vet immediately,” he finished lamely. He looked back at the man warily, crossing his arms over his chest. As much a barrier as he could put between the two of them.

 

“Is he alright?” the man asked, completely ignoring Anders’ previous reprimands. 

 

“Yes, he is. I have to insist on you calling us when the bite gets bad, before it swells up your dog’s entire face, however,” he replied, taking a few steps forward to check if Merrill had received the invoice he’d sent before coming out. “And to use vinegar on the bite to prevent swelling,” he finished absentmindedly, leaning over the counter to hastily press a few keys on the keyboard. 

 

“I know all of that already,” the man answered bashfully, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck. “I just wasn’t home at the time.”

 

Anders turned around, suddenly feeling sheepish for taking his exhausted anger out on the man. “Then don’t leave your dog unattended around bees so late at night, I suppose,” he said. The man then laughed, a big, hearty sound that echoed through the reception. 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he drawled, moving to stand next to him. Anders found himself lost in those blue eyes – Maker, they were an impossible colour. As if someone had trapped the sea itself in them. The man cleared his throat, and Anders’ gaze snapped down to look at the floor. Had he really been staring for that long?

 

“I can see that you’re tired. I’m sorry for making you work overtime,” the man said, his hand once again rubbing the tension out of his neck. “You look like you could use a break, and I prevented that.”

 

“It’s my job,” Anders replied simply, following his statement with a single-shouldered shrug. 

 

“There could always be another poor creature with an irresponsible owner,” Merrill piped in, a too-wide grin on her face. Anders turned to glare at her – this was definitely not the time for her to make fun of him. Not in front of a man that had Anders so flustered by simply _looking_ at him. 

 

The man laughed yet again, before Anders opened the door to his cabinet, letting the dog barrel out of the small room. The man welcomed his pet back with ease, not flinching as the gigantic mabari jumped up on him. 

 

Anders waved the man goodbye before retreating to his office, welcoming the cool air. It had been way too hot in the reception, what with Mr. Universe standing next to him, and frankly, he was just… exhausted. He sat down at his desk, closing up the file on the dog. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool surface of the table. 

 

He’d almost dozed off when Merrill walked into his office, her giggles too loud for him to ignore. He pushed himself up, watching her warily as she twirled around before handing a piece of paper to him. 

 

He took it from her fingers delicately, turning it over once he had a good grip on it. 

 

_041-xxx-xxx-xx-xx_

 

“What is this?” he asked, unable to understand why she would be giving him a phone number. Merrill simply looked at him, her grin stretched so wide across her face that she almost looked ridiculous. It took a while for his brain to catch up with what his eyes were seeing, but suddenly, it clicked. His jaw fell open and he looked up at Merrill, who giggled excitedly. 

 

“He left this for you!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down, and if Anders wasn’t so out of it, he’d wonder how in the Maker’s name she could have so much energy so early in the morning. “He seemed very interested. Asked a lot of questions about you, like your favourite colour, favourite food, if you were single…”

 

Anders stopped listening to her after that, his gaze zeroed in on the numbers scrawled across the paper. The handwriting was rough, rugged, yet nice. Just like the man’s appearance. 

 

“I didn’t even get his name.”

 

“He gave it to me - for, for the Mabari,” Merrill mused. “Hawke.”

 

“Hawke?”

 

“Hawke. Garrett Hawke.”

 

“What a ridiculous name.”

 

Merrill chuckled, but left it at that. With a smile and a wink, she returned to her spot at the reception, leaving Anders to stare longingly at the small piece of paper. There was no _way_ that guy was really interested. No way. Anders knew that he was terrible with first impressions, and tiredly yelling at a customer was usually not the way to grab a man’s attention.

 

So he spent the next few days simply glancing at the torn piece of paper, conflicted between calling to say that he wasn’t interested, which would be a blatant lie, but at least would save him the embarrassment, or never calling him. Ever.

 

A few weeks after that, late into the evening, one that he spent with only the company of a bottle of wine and a terrible rom-com movie playing on the T.V, Anders found the paper again. 

 

Before his conscience could tell him to slow down, he had dialled the number and was waiting excitedly as the other end of the line beeped. The rhythmic sound lasted for much too long, and with each consecutive _beep_ , Anders’ heart rate picked up. 

 

That is, until a click echoed from the speaker. He heard the other man inhale deeply, before his voice, so strange yet so familiar, finally came through. 

 

_“This is Garret Hawke speaking, how may I help you?”_

 


End file.
